The Girl with the Zydrate Heart
by AgaruTomo
Summary: Thanks to Zane's junky parents, her body produces Zydrate like blood. GraveRobber decides to snatch her away just as GeneCo tries to kill her, putting Zane in his debt. And what can she repay him with other than her body, and what's inside it? GR/OC
1. In Which Zane's Life Is Saved

CHAPTER ONE:

The thing that Zane hated most about her life was who had brought her to it. A pair of Zydrate addicts who were actually scientific geniuses. They had worked for GeneCo but had been 'let go' because of their addiction. Needless to say, things had been 'taken out' on the nine-year-old Zane, and she would forever resent the man and the woman that had turned her into a magnet for every junky that ever heard even a whispered rumor of her.

She would hate them forever for what they had done, and had none of the 'but they're still my parents' love crap that so many children had for people that abused and hurt them. A girl she had known had actually _forgiven_ her father for raping her seven times. Zane couldn't understand that. Couldn't understand how such crimes could be forgiven.

The sky outside the bars of her window was dingy, but thankfully, faced away from the big screens that would flash with GeneCo commercials. She hated the company, even if its part in what had happened to her had been indirect. "Arrogant, pitiful, power hungry bastards…" she muttered. Then she heard a soft wave of sound from the screens, and disgust contorted proud, strong features. Her gray-blue eyes narrowed, and she yanked the curtains shut, turning from the window.

In her short black nightgown—the garment barely long enough to cover her backside—she paced over to the small kitchen, pulling open the fridge. She sighed as she always did, seeing the mostly bare shelves. She reached in, fingers hovering over a can of beer before she turned away, closing the fridge. She snatched up a half-empty plastic sleeve of saltines, and turned the light off as she left the kitchen.

A few crumbs fell from her lips onto the faded green carpet as she munched on a cracker. Her feet padded easily over the worn floor, going over to the second of the two windows in her small home. The latch on this one was broken, but she'd taken some measures against break ins. She plopped down on the creaky but sturdy chair in front of the window, crossing her long legs under her. With a snack in hand, and a view away from the rest of the city, Zane was able to catch a few glimpses of the stars.

Work that day had been worse than usual. She worked as a waitress in a cheap diner, and she'd been harassed by several customers. Flicking a length of her hair back over her shoulder, she gave a large yawn, using her tongue to work a bit of saltine out from in between her back teeth. For some time, she simply sat there, eating quietly and frowning out the window. She wanted to get out of the city, off the island and away from the place she'd grown up. But she had only money enough to keep herself fed, clothed, and relatively clean.

No money to escape the place she hated, no money to leave her past behind.

Growling a few curses under her breath, the young woman stuffed several crackers into her mouth at once, looking quite ridiculous as she chewed violently, glaring ahead of her. She hugged her legs up against her, chewing until the crackers were completely liquefied. She swallowed, getting to her feet. It was early, but she was still going to bed.

LATER:

It wasn't difficult to break into the small flat. The window's lock was broken, and the only thing in the way of a potential intruder was a mass of razor wire on the outside frame. For this particular intruder, the Graverobber, such a thing was easily dealt with. He lifted the sash up carefully, and ducked under the cracked glass, his heavily booted feet coming quietly into contact with the threadbare carpet. In the dark, his eyes peered at it, finding it some kind of green. But like all colors in this world, it had faded and become mixed with gray.

The sheets and blanket on the bed across from him weren't much different. The bed was closed off from the rest of the cramped apartment in a tiny room that only just contained the piece of furniture. He didn't pay any attention to the rest of the gloomy place, his eyes fixed on the soft, almost imperceptible glow that was coming from the figure sleeping in the bed. A grin revealed the Graverobber's teeth, sharp canines and enamel as white and pale as his skin. His black lips and shadowed eyes only made his skin seem paler.

Silent as the graves he robbed, he moved across the room, skirting the chair that was near the window. His long, multi-colored and tangled hair fell forward over his shoulder as he lifted a knee, letting it sink softly into the firm, but lumpy mattress. His movements were slow and measured and he made sure that the girl in the bed stayed sleeping; it wouldn't do for her to wake up until he was ready for her to.

He reached over, his hand slipping over the girl's shoulder. She lay with her back to him, and he slowly turned her. His eyes lit up as she flopped onto her back, her face towards him and surrounded by red-brown silky hair. But it wasn't her hair that made the man smile. It wasn't the creaminess of her skin, but rather what glowed beneath it.

Within her body, running along and beside each and every one of her veins, was a second circulatory system. But this one did not run with her lifeblood, but rather with the drug that had so many of the world were hooked on. Because of her addict parents, the girl's body contained an organ that created what they had called 'organic' Zydrate. The blue liquid flowed like blood through her body.

"The girl with the Zydrate heart," the Graverobber murmured. But no sooner had the words left his mouth than the girl was awake and pressing the barrel of a gun to his forehead.

"That ain't my name," she growled. "I'm fucking sick 'n' tired of being called that."

"Well, pardon me, then," he said, not at all fazed by the cold press of the muzzle to his skin. "Would you please tell me your name then?"

Bright eyes stared at him and then rolled. "Yeah," she muttered, "gonna tell my name t' the guy that probably broke into my home to rape me."

The Graverobber's face took on a look of what could have been genuine hurt. "Hey now," he said, frowning. "While I may have a penchant for rough sex, I'm no rapist." He reached out for her, and she pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

"Aww, fuck!" she cursed. She grabbed the barrel of the gun and smashed the weapon across the man's face. He was forced to the side and then fell off the bed. The girl lunged from the bed, her short black nightgown doing little to hide her figure and her glowing skin. _"Get to the kitchen, Zane! Get a knife!"_ But Zane never got to the kitchen, or even out of her cramped little bedroom. A hand closed around her ankle and she crashed to the floor, cursing violently. She tried to kick. "Leggo!"

But the Graverobber is not one to be taken out by a simple pistol-whip to the head. He lunged up, pinning Zane under him, using the full weight of his body to cover hers, while his hands slammed hers to the floor on either side of her head. He quickly grabbed both wrists with one hand, finding that they were surprisingly thin. His other hand grabbed her around the throat, squeezing just enough to make it a bit harder to breathe.

"Listen kid," he said, voice now a deep growl, eyes dark and threatening. "I'm not gonna rape you, in case you didn't hear me before. And I'm not here to rob you, even though you do have something I want."

"Well what the fuck _do_ you want then?" she growled hoarsely.

"I wanna go into business with you, Zane Morgan," the GraveRobber purred, his face hardly two inches away from hers. "You're obviously not selling what your body makes, judging by the state of this place." He jerked his head at the surroundings.

She just stared up at him, and then wrinkled a nose that looked like it had been broken recently. "You smell like rotting flesh," she said bluntly, making a face and trying to crane her neck away from him. "God, couldn't ya take a shower before ya broke in?"

He stared, blinked, and then stared some more. She had tried to shoot him, and when that hadn't worked, she'd pistol-whipped him. Now she was telling him he smelled bad and needed to wash. Granted, that last bit was probably quite true, but it still got a laugh out of him. A deep sound that Zane actually found attractive. "Part of the job, doll," he said. "You try being a grave-robber and see if you don't get used to it."

Taken off guard by the sound of his laugh, Zane's expression faltered, and the GraveRobber grinned down at her. As she struggled, he rolled his eyes; she really was a fiery creature. But he didn't have time for this, neither of them did. His hand around her neck tightened, allowing her just enough air to stay conscious, but not enough to speak. "Now, you're going to listen to me, Zane," he said darkly. "I'm not the only one that knows about you and that lovely little organ pumping away behind your heart. GeneCo knows, too." He saw her eyes widen in both fear and anger. "That's right," he continued. "If you don't come with me now, kid, you'll probably die. And you don't seem like someone who's ready to die." He let go of her throat, and she gasped and coughed, dragging air into her lugs.

"Get the hell offa me so I can get my stuff!" she hissed.

"That's a good girl," GraveRobber said, letting go and rising up onto his knees, looking down at Zane. She looked quite nice like this, and he filed away the image for later consideration.

She scrambled out from under the man, ignoring him completely now. She stripped rapidly, giving him a flash of her bare, modest breasts before she'd yanked on a loose blue tank-top, cropped to show her midsection. She stuffed some clothes into a bag, pausing only to put on a pair of purple-pink arm warmers, tight at the top and lose at the bottom around her hands. She hopped comically to the bathroom into a pair of green cargo pants, before stuffing toiletries into the bag as well.

The GraveRobber was about to tell her to hurry up when she scrambled out, feet stuffed into red converse shoes. She opened her mouth to say she was ready, then held up one hand. She raced to the other end of her home, grabbing a black trench coat and stuffing what food she could into her bag. Before she could turn around again, a strong arm grabbed her around the waist, turning her and pressing her into the GraveRobber's side. "Oy! I can—!"

He slapped a hand over her mouth, moving quickly over the floor and back to the window. He pushed her out before himself, her landing with a thud on her side. But she didn't even have time to curse as she was grabbed up again, and a hat jammed over her head. "Just shut up," he growled, grabbing her wrist and starting to move, "and run." Zane was pulled after him, fumbling to keep hold of her bag as she broke into a run, the alarm of the GeneCops on their heels.

Her long legs allowed her keep up with the man, and she didn't waste air on talking; the muscles in her legs needed it more. He glanced back to check on her, dragging her away from her home and deep into the city slums, along paths and through crooked alleys that only he could navigate with such precision. Then he blinked, glancing back a second time. They were still running, and he realized that the girl hadn't bothered with a bra. He snickered and returned to running. He could contemplate her physical virtues later.

When they finally stopped, Zane had no idea where they were. She slumped, panting, against the wall of the alley, her chest heaving and blood pumping with adrenaline. "That…was fun!" she hissed, lifting her eyes to glare at the man. But it was only a halfhearted expression; she was all too aware that she now owed this man her life. He hadn't liked to get her out of the house; she had heard the GeneCops chasing them. But now she owed this Zydrate dealer, big time.

Before she could catch her breath, he took her hand again, pulling her to him and then opening a door. Too winded to pay attention, Zane was dragged up several flights of stairs, before she was shoved into an unlit room, the GraveRobber behind her and locking the door.

"Fuckin' 'ell!" she wheezed, collapsing to her knees and then sitting down with a thud. She leaned back and supported herself with her arms, gulping in air and staring into the darkness. "That…guuuh!" She gave up on talking and fell onto her back. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, and she turned her head to watch the shadowed man move over to what looked like the shape of a table, and bend over it. A light flickered, and he straightened away from what looked like one of those old camping lamps; old but bright as hell.

He said nothing as he took off the leather satchel he wore, and then his coat, letting them drop onto the floor. This revealed the vials of Zydrate glowing as they hung from his belt, and Zane instantly sat up, scowling and shaking her hair from her face. His face finding hers, the Graverobber grinned, chuckling softly as he crouched down, knees bent, to look at her more closely. His gray-blue eyes were dark and bright at the same time, studying her intently. His breathing was elevated as well, but he was recovering more quickly.

"Hmm, you aren't exactly what I was expecting," he said, reaching out a leather gloved hand and brushing his fingers over her cheek. Zane slapped his hand away. He grinned. "I was expecting someone more submissive…" He tilted his head, eyes going over every inch of her slowly. This got him growled at, and he blinked at the sound, once more looking at Zane's face.

One leg snapped out, and she slammed one foot against his throat, making him choke and fall back with a hoarse snarl of anger and surprise. "Listen to me, GraveRobber," Zane said lowly. "I know that I owe you; don't think for a second that I don't know that. Also, I _will_ repay you, so don' bother worrying 'bout that." She slowly stood, watching as he rubbed his throat and stared up at her, brows furrowed. "But don't ever judge me. _Ever_. You ain't got the right to do that."

In response, the GraveRobber surged from his sitting position, slamming into Zane and dragging her to the wall where he held her by her throat. His face was dark, without a trace of the odd humor he'd had before. "You'll repay me?" he growled. "How?" His other hand grabbed her hip and dug in hard, his grip bruising. "You think I'll just be satisfied with the Zydrate?" He leaned in, his hand shifting from her neck to her hair, holding her head back and exposing her neck to him. He dragged the tip of his tongue over the column of her throat, feeling her gasp and swallow, body quivering as she held herself back.

"What if I want more?" he said, lips brushing her neck and making Zane shiver. "What if I want a glow of a different kind?" He pulled her lower body flush against his, a threatening act that was matched in his eyes as they met Zane's. And he held her gaze for several long moments, letting her take in and memorize this side of him, a side she didn't want to bring out or toy with.

Abruptly, he let to, rubbing her scalp soothingly, doing the same to the hip he had held to tightly. He back away, face calm again. "I'm really not that hard to get along with you know, kid," he said, turning away and picking up the lamp. He left her standing at the wall as he strode over to what Zane realized was a large, if rather warn, folding screen. He dragged it aside, setting the lamp on the ground. He revealed a twin-sized mattress on the ground, shoved into the corner. There were no pillows, but a blanket lay rumpled over it. He made an oddly formal gesture towards the bed, acting almost like an old fashioned gentleman.

Zane blinked, staring. Her hand lifted and brushed her throat where his mouth had touched, taken aback and slightly stunned at his rapid change of mood. "Wh-where are you sleeping?" she finally got out.

He snorted, dropping the pose. "On the bed," he said bluntly, sitting down on the edge of it and taking off his gloves. He then began the task of undoing the seven buckles on each knee-high boot. Just because he was being a gentleman and letting Zane sleep on his bed didn't mean he was going to sleep on the floor. "You wanna wash or something, the shower's right across the hall." He remembered that she'd brought a towel with her when she'd rushed through packing.

But Zane shook her head, saying nothing. She slowly took off her coat, and slid down to sit on the floor. Her neck hurt, as did her hip where he had grabbed her. She wasn't exactly frightened—fear did not come easily to Zane—but she was shaken. It had been a long time since someone had done this to her. Reflexively, she hugged her legs up against her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She'd gotten herself into a huge mess, and she clenched her jaw, hiding her face now.

"_This is going to be a long night,"_ she thought, knowing that the odds of getting a good night's sleep were very, very low.

WALLACE RESIDENCE:

Despite how sheltered she had been, Shilo had proven herself quite adaptable. She had found that both her father and Mag had her father had left her everything; Mag had changed her will the night of the Opera. Mag's money, her home, her father's money and everything that had ever been his, all of it was hers. She had enough money to live comfortably for quite some time. But that didn't mean she was going to just sit around and do nothing with her life.

However…getting a job—as she knew she had to—was a lot harder than she had first thought. She had no diploma to certify that she had a high school level education. She'd been well educated by her father, but was currently having to go through quite a few on line courses to prove her education. It was through a well-fare group, so it wasn't costing her much. And she was also exploring the world that for so long she had only seen from her window.

Moving through the dark streets, her bag over her shoulder, Shilo bit her bottom lip, shivering lightly as a breeze gusted over her. She pulled the black velvet hoodie closer about her, and lifted up the roomy hood. As her father's medicine worked its way out of her system, her own hair had started to grow. It was as black as the wig had ever been, but it was softer, with a more down-like quality. She was wearing a pair of dark maroon leather clogs and her black knit, thigh-high stockings. Her shirt was a bodice of plum velvet and black silk puffed sleeves. Her skirt was black pleated wool with a lining of satin to keep it from irritating her pale skin.

It was several hours before curfew, and the gold pocket watch of her father's was set to go off thirty minutes before, to give her time to head back home. Usually, she just wandered a course she'd picked out on a map before leaving the house. But this time, she was looking for something in particular. Or rather…someone. She was looking for the GraveRobber. It had been some time since she had seen him, and now she was going back to the last place he'd been.

She had only seen him once since the Opera. She had wandered away from her home, not wanting to be anywhere near it. She had wandered around, bloody and crying, until she found herself back in the alley where she had learned of Blind Mag's fate. She'd heard a deep male voice humming from somewhere near a dumpster and, blearily recognizing the voice, and followed it.

That was where she'd found the GraveRobber, lounging in the empty dumpster.

_Peering in, Shilo sniffled, face smeared with blood and tears. "H-hello?" she quavered to the man who lay on the metal bottom of the container._

_One dark blue eye opened, brows furrowed as the owner stared up at the female that had spoken. He didn't have any more Zydrate to sell, so if it was… His train of thought stopped, and he opened both eyes. "Kid?" He sat up. He'd seen the Opera, everyone had, but he hadn't expected the girl to end up here._

_He was all Shilo knew of the outside world, and when home had been about as welcoming to her as the bloody opera stage, some part of her had gone to the only other thing she knew. "I c-can't stay in the h-house," she whispered, restraining herself from jumping into the dumpster and clinging to the man. "J-j-just can't be there r-right now…" She wiped at her tears, as they blurred her vision, and smeared her make-up and blood worse than they already had been._

_The man hefted his six-foot frame into a standing position, and with a quick leap and a thump of landing, he stood beside Shilo, looking down at her. He looked her over; the only difference from when he'd seen her on the big screen was that the blood had tried, caking in her wig and on her skin, ruining the short dress she was wearing. He sighed, frowning. He had very twisted morals, but he liked this kid, especially after he'd seen her fire as she had pointed the gun at Rotti Largo. _

_Reaching out he took her hand, and began to lead her away. "You can't stay long," he said. "I don't have anything that'll meet up to what you're used to. Just a place to sleep."_

_And to his surprise, she said, "That's all I want…" Her voice was thready and hard to hear. "Don't want anything like what I had…" She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling from his grasp. He put an arm around her shoulders instead, his coat already so stained that a little dried blood wouldn't do much harm at all. "I want the thing farthest from it…"_

_This got a dry laugh from the GraveRobber. "Well that's where we're headed, kid."_

Shilo only remembered how to get to the apartment building because it had been the first thing marked on the map of the city. In red pencil the route was outlined and the building circled. It took her some time and lots of backtracking before she was into the building and climbing the stairs, muttering the room number under her breath as she did so.

UPSTAIRS:

Zane hadn't moved from her spot, and because of this, her ass had fallen asleep and her back hurt. But she didn't want to move. She didn't want to go near the man that had saved her life, and then gone and said he might take that debt out by way of using her body, and for a lot more than just the Zydrate in it, all in the space of less than half an hour.

She was half awake, half asleep, and as she hovered between the two, making soft sounds of general grumpiness as she crouched. Meanwhile, this was slowly getting more and more annoying for the GraveRobber. He got to his feet, his boots gone but the thin knitted scarf and Zydrate adorned belt still on. Deceptively silent, he padded across the wooden floor, avoiding all the creaky spots before he knelt down in front of Zane.

"Oy, kid," he muttered, poking her head. She started back to wakefulness, instinctively pushing herself backwards. This only made her hit her head on the wall. "Hey, take it easy," the GraveRobber muttered, smirking in amusement. "Lemme see your hip," he said then, nodding to where he'd grabbed her. She tensed instantly, pulling her legs closer. He frowned, staring at her with slightly furrowed brows. "C'mon. I'm not gonna do anything but look at it."

Still very wary and more than a little guarded, Zane got to her feet, adjusting her shirt as he stood as well. "Fine…" she muttered. She undid the button and zipper of her pants, yanking them down off her hips. Her underwear was a faded blue, with the faint outline of what might have once been a pair of wings on the front.

But even with her so boldly showing herself to him, the GraveRobber couldn't see too well. He took hold of the waistband of her pants, and pulled her—half stumbling—over towards the light. He turned and knelt down, back bent as he peered at her hip. Sure enough, a dark, hand-shaped bruise was beginning to form on her creamy, almost gold-toned skin. A sly grin slowly began to form on his face. "Hmm."

'"_Hmm?"'_ she thought. _'What's that supposed to mean, huh?'_ She frowned down at him, crossing her arms under her bust, giving her already reasonably sized breasts even more volume. Despite her uneasiness with the situation, she couldn't help the light flush that came to her cheeks at having a man bent before her at that particular level, especially with a certain part of her anatomy dead level with his mouth.

The GraveRobber glanced up at her face, and almost looked away again. However, seeing her blush and spotting Zane's modestly sized breasts, he couldn't stop himself from... having a bit of fun. His hands slowly slid around her waist and settled on her smooth backside as he began to softly kiss her vulva. She was taken off guard by the push and stumbled a bit.

His lips pressed against her vulva through her underwear, caressing the vaginal opening with his tongue. Her surprise at both his actions and the sudden sensual pleasure gave him enough time to exhale deeply, his teeth slowly moving the panties off to the side while his tongue slid its way further out to press through the crease of her outer folds.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she fell forward, hands bracing on his shoulders, her thoughts trapped in a loop of bewildered confusion and erotic ecstasy. She had _not_ been expecting this. Though her logic told her to push him away and to stop this incursion into her, her mind and body began to scream in unknown and unearthly pleasure. But her lack of rejection spurred him on, and he gripped her backside, letting his hot tongue reach out to taste her again, as she moaned softly and lightly fell back against the wall, slowly sliding her hands from his shoulders to the back of his head, gently holding it in place.

A panicked female cry from the hallway shattered the hot and erotic passion. The Grave Robber's ears perked up in recognition; it was a voice the opportunist knew far too well. "Hey! Let go of me!"

It was Shilo Wallace.


	2. In Which Zane Meets Shilo

CHAPTER TWO:

The GraveRobber had a soft spot for the kid, and while he was loath to stop his exploration of Zane's body, he stood, yanking her pants back up. He gave her a wink, and then swiftly crossed to the door. He yanked it open and looked left, and right... and saw little Shi grappling with a lean, lanky man. "Hey!" he snapped, stepping from his room. With swift strides, he reached the two, grabbing the man's wrist. His grip was tight, and it let the man know that the GraveRobber was capable of breaking his bones.

"G-GraveRobber?" Shilo squeaked, her hands still held by the other man.

"Hey, kid," the GraveRobber greeted, no looking over at her. He tightened his grip, still looking at the other male. "I suggest you let go of this one, 'cause she doesn't belong to you."

The man tried to push down his fear as he swallowed hard. "What? She belong to you or somethin'?" he snapped. "Ain't she a little young for you?"

The GraveRobber yanked Shilo free, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her to his side. "She's legal, Z-brain, that's enough for me." He leaned down and licked Shilo's neck, making her shiver. "Now get the hell out of my sight…" he muttered scathingly, staring at the man in disgust. The man opened his mouth to speak, but a flash of anger from the pale man made him think better about it, and run. Smirking with self-satisfaction, the Zydrate dealer steered Shilo around, and escorted her back into his room.

Zane stared blankly for a moment at Shilo, still a bit lost. The sound of the dead bolt sliding home on the door snapped her back to her senses, and her eyes narrowed sharply at the GraveRobber. "Just what the hell was that?" she snapped, arms crossed over her chest.

Turning, the man blinked. "What was what? The part where I kissed you between your legs and you liked it, or the part where I brought Shi in?"

Face turning crimson, Zane's eye twitched lightly. "I did _not_ like it, you leach," she growled, even though she knew that it was a lie. Warmth still tingled in her lower body, but her strong stance hid it. The GraveRobber only laughed.

Shilo looked from one to the other, rubbing her neck where it had been licked, face confused and slightly flushed. "U-um, thanks," she mumbled. She took a better look at Zane then, paying more attention. Her first thought was that the woman—who looked just a bit older than Shilo herself—was a customer of the GraveRobber's, a Zydrate addict. But the sharp alertness of her gray-blue eyes told another story.

Zane's brows furrowed as she took in the pale wisp of a girl, and then recognition clicked in her mind. "The girl from the Opera…" she murmured, a bit of interest in her eyes. Then she cracked a smile, a small expression as she remembered what had taken place that night. "Takes guts to sass one of the most powerful men in the world, while pointing his own gun at him." She turned away, hoping to hide the remaining blush on her face by going back to where she'd been sitting.

The GraveRobber grinned happily, winking at Zane before his attention went back to Shilo. "What brings you here, kid?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest and lean back against the door. "Planning a surgery?" he asked, one hand lowering to finer one of the Zydrate filled vials at his belt.

The reaction he received was one of light disgust. "No!" she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself, a reflexive motion of protection. She lowered her voice, pulling her hood back. "I just wanted to…" She shrugged. "Well, I remembered where you last lived, so…"

"You came to see me?" he said, putting a hand to his chest in a mockery of being honored. "Why thank you, Miss Wallace." He spun his hand out, sweeping his arm to the side as he bowed. Zane couldn't help but grin, and the GraveRobber didn't miss a moment of it, his own dark lips curving upwards.

Shilo didn't miss the silent interaction between them, but decided not to stick her nose into it. Yet. She shrugged again, still standing exposed in the middle of the room. "Yeah," she said. "Not like I have anyone else to visit in this place…" There was a trace of sadness in her voice, and Zane caught it.

She looked at the GraveRobber. "You're just full of all kinds of…well, not crap but… Strange stuff," she said to the man. Zane's voice was somewhat lower than the average female's, and it had a roughness too it. She was a young woman that, like Shilo, had seen horrors. The only difference was that Zane's horrors were long passed and scarred over, while Shilo's were still fresh, barely scabbed. _"Horrors…"_ she thought. _"Now that's something that's gone unvisited…"_

Turning away from both of the others, Zane closed her eyes, using her memory of the room to navigate. The GraveRobber stepped away from the door, curious about this new acquaintance of his. He rested a hand on Shilo's shoulder, meeting her eyes for a moment as she glanced questioningly at him. He shrugged, telling her silently that he didn't have the faintest idea. Zane ignored them, biting her bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing as she squeezed her eyes even more tightly closed. She dipped back into her memory, into the horrors of her past.

Every month, she tried to remember something new out of all the pain and suffering that she'd blocked and buried deep in her memory. In her mind, facing all that pain was the only way to properly deal with it. Bottling things up never did anyone any good in the end; it would always come back to bite you in the ass. She stood perfectly still, and breathed in deeply. With it came the smells of both Shi and the GraveRobber. Maturing innocence and something unidentifiable mixed with death. And then the rush came.

"_What were you thinking, Christy?!" her father's voice shouted, the images still unclear. "You know he'll never let you escape!"_

"_I've changed my name, Marcko!" Christy snapped back, her voice high and on edge. "They won't be able to find me!"_

_As the images cleared, Zane found herself, six years of age, hiding on the stairs, her parents downstairs in the living room, shouting at each other. It was as if she were watching from the body of her younger self, letting the feelings wash over her. She let it all happen. She knew that it was a memory of the past, and could not be changed; trying to would take her from the memory._

_Her father grabbed her mother's wrist. "You put the poison in that Wallace man's lab!" he hissed. "If not for you following Rotti's orders, the woman would still be alive, and the child would have a mother!"_

_Christy yanked herself out of his grasp. "It doesn't matter now! What's done is done!"_

Zane forced herself from the memory, eyes opening wide. She jolted from the trance-like state, stumbling forward and falling onto her knees with a thud. She stared straight ahead, feeling both sets of eyes on her back. "Don't!" she snapped, hearing one of them take a step forward. She was still muddled from coming back so suddenly, from breaking out of reliving her memories sooner than usual.

Slowly, she leaned forward, now on her hands and knees. Her hair fell over her shoulders, hanging around her face now, a curtain hiding her expression from Shilo and the GraveRobber. Wallace… That was the name that her father had spoken. The woman was dead? Poisoned by Rotti's orders…

"You influenced my memory rush, kid," she finally mumbled, rising up onto one knee, and then shakily getting to her feet. She turned, skin almost as white as the GraveRobber's. But her eyes were on Shilo. "I—I know how yer mum really died…" Shilo's face was just as confused as Zane's own, her brows furrowing deeply.

"My dad accidentally," the words came out a bit choked, "poisoned her… He didn't mean to, but—"

"No," Zane cut in. She ran her fingers through her hair, brows furrowed deeply. "Well, yes, but also no…" She began to pace, needing to move as she replayed what she had remembered. "Rotti…He was…"

"Spit it out, Z," GraveRobber said, by nature a somewhat impatient man.

"Don't call me that!" Zane snapped out of habit. She shook her head then. "Anyways." Her eyes returned to Shilo. "My mom, she was a Gentern before she got fired from GeneCo… I think that," she paused, keeping her gaze on the younger girl, "that she was the one Rotti sent into your dad's lab. Rotti made her plant poison. The same poison that Mr. Wallace accidentally used in his cure." She clenched her hands into fists, scowling and looking away. "Stupid fucking bitch…"

She was no longer looking at Shilo, but she didn't have to in order to guess what her expression and reaction were. Shock, confusion… Shilo's mouth opened and closed several times, various feelings going across her young face. _Rotti_ had had her mother killed? But hadn't he loved her? Why did he have her killed? It didn't make sense… There was no anger towards Zane; it hadn't been her that planted the poison. Slowly, she walked over to a rickety old stool in the corner, sitting down with a creak, pulling her bag into her lap, hugging it close. She stared into space, chewing on the inside of her cheek and trying to sort out all the thoughts that were going through her head.

Casting her a glance, the GraveRobber strode over to Zane, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around to face him. His fingers gripped her chin and lifted her face up to him, his dark, and yet somehow also bright eyes, studying her intently. Was she lying? Was she just making it up? But there was no lie on her face. She was telling the truth, or what she completely believed to be the truth. He pulled back, slowly smiling.

"So Rotti wanted to give his kingdom to the daughter of the woman he both loved and killed," he muttered darkly. "Just another twisted soul on this already crippled globe…" He shook his head slowly from side to side. "Not the most surprising bit of news I've ever heard, though. Hell, shoulda expected it."

Zane shot him a venomous look. "Have a bit of sympathy, bastard!" she snapped. She wasn't a very nice person, but she was still capably of empathy and feeling sorry for others. He blinked at her curiously, almost managing to look innocent. "You have t' know what that means!"

He leaned in close to her face, making her instantly take two steps back. "You should know by now, I'm not a very nice person," he said, smiling all the while. "The kid knows that, so I don't have to bother with thins that are just a waste of time." He shrugged, beginning to walk over to the bed. "It's not like a few words from someone like me are gonna help her any."

Zane scowled. "Of course they are!"

He looked over his shoulder, pursing his lips and frowning lightly. "If words are as magical as you seem to think they are, why don't _you_ say something nice."

The next thing he knew, a red converse shoe hit him square in the back of the head. "You insensitive _prick_!" Zane said sharply. "She comes to visit you, so ya gotta mean something to her! And if that's true, a few words from you sure as hell _are_ gonna help! She don' know me!"

"Listen, Z—"

"I told you not to—!"

"Will the two of you shut the fuck up?!" Shilo snapped, breaking in and making the two of them fall silent in surprise as they looked at her. "I'm not crying, and I'm not freaking out. I'm fine." But Zane was right… Words _did_ help, and while she didn't expect much from GraveRobber, some small gesture from the man might have been nice. She hunched forward, elbows on her knees and fingers going through her hair. The really sad thing was that she was having no trouble accepting this bit of information. Sit was very possible that the man that had tried to get her to kill her father would have been jealous enough to kill Marni. Maybe she _should_ have shot him when she had the chance to, when the barrel of the gun had been pointed at him instead of her father.

She flinched then, and heard Zane muttered some kind of curse under her breath; she sounded frustrated. "Look, Shi, um—Shilo," the elder said, "sorry about just dumping that on you. Well, I blocked out a lot of my past because it was really shitty, and I figure the best way to face it is to remember as much as I can of it." She shrugged as she walked over, sitting down on the floor near the stool where the girl was. "I guess your smell and being around you influenced what I remembered."

Interested by this explanation, the GraveRobber decided not to lay down in bed in hopes of a bit of sleep in something other than a dumpster. He came over and crouched down in front of Zane. "You can recall things you've blocked since childhood? And that fast?" he said, head tilted slightly. "In how much detail? Is it a photographic memory?"

He was pointedly ignored, and Zane looked at Shilo. "So, you've cut your hair since the Opera," she said.

Stifling a giggle, Shilo played along. "Well, no, actually," she said. "It was a wig."

"Huh, well it was a damn good one," Zane said. "I've got a sharp eye, and I couldn't tell. Granted… I only saw you on the screens."

The look the GraveRobber conjured up was like that of a kicked puppy. But it was soon tainted with annoyance as the girls continued to ignore him. Not only was he somewhat impatient, but he rather hated it when he was ignored. He allowed it to go on for a few moments more before he decided that he had to do something about it. He grabbed Zane's upper arm, yanking her to her feet. She stared at him with narrowed eyes, but said nothing.

"Hnn." He yanked her with him more roughly than was necessary, bringing her over to the bed and pushing her down. Her ass bounced on the surprisingly firm mattress, and she sat there, watching as he crouched and pulled out a hypodermic needle.

This however, produced a reaction that he hadn't been expecting. Her eyes widened with genuine fear, her lips parting, mouthing "no," silently. Then she shot away from him, scrambling over the bed to press herself against the wall. She shook her head. "N-no," she said shakily. "Put that _d-damn_ thing away. Not having a th-thing to do with it…" It took him a moment, but then he realized that she was actually _shaking_. She was so scared that it was making her tremble. Her eyes were riveted on the needle, and his quick mind came up with a likely possibility.

"Your parents, huh?" he said.

Wordlessly, Zane pulled up the arm-warmer on her left arm, showing the crook of her elbow, arm fully extended. At first, the GraveRobber didn't see what she was trying to show him. But when he leaned in closer, he saw a pattern of small circular scars. Each was a scar from repeated needle puncture. They must have drawn the Zydrate from her over and over, and each time, she must have fought. He looked down at his needle. For drawing Zydrate out of the dead, it was all well and good, but from a living person, that was different. He sighed, going over to the table where the lamp had been. He opened a drawer, and dug around until he found what he was looking for; he came back over with a box of individually packaged syringes.

"I don't wanna," Zane said simply, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

"Um, don't wanna what?" Shilo asked.

"That's too damn bad, Z," the GraveRobber muttered under his breath, not speaking to Shilo. Zane had yanked her arms back to her chest, her arm warmers pulled firmly down over them. Drawing out an alcohol wipe, he ripped open the packaging, yanking one of Zane's arm warmers off. He then took hold of her wrist, drawing her arm to him with little effort; she had known she'd be paying him off like this.

Feeling the cold press of the little cloth, Zane looked away, jaw set stubbornly. She didn't close her eyes as the cloth was drawn away and a syringe was pulled out of its own individual packaging. She still didn't look when she felt the prick of the needle, but after that…she found her eyes pulled back, looking down at where the needle was joined to her skin at the crook of her elbow.

Shilo was closer now, peering curiously over the GraveRobber's shoulder. Her eyes widened as he pulled back the plunger, and slowly filled the thick plastic tube with the glowing blue liquid that she recognized as Zydrate. However, there was something a bit different about what was being drawn from this living breathing person. It was lighter, with a white tinge to it and a more brilliant glow. "How is…? Um, I thought Zydrate was in the brain…"

"Usually is," the GraveRobber said conversationally. "But Z here has a heart that _makes_ organic Zydrate like blood. Not really a heart but… that was what it was made out of." He shrugged, pulling out a vial and injecting the organic Zydrate into it. He smiled as the last drop was put in, lifting up the vial as he capped it. "Really beautiful," he said lowly. "Brighter, stronger, and more pure than anything GeneCo could come up with."

Zane pulled her arm back, rubbing where the needle had punctured. She frowned as a little bit of Zydrate got on her finger. To both Shilo and the GraveRobber's surprise, she lifted the digit and licked the softly glowing liquid off. She felt their gazes, but didn't meet them as she pulled her arm warmer back on. "I'm mostly immune to the effects," she muttered. "Just gives me a small buzz of endorphins, depending on how much there is…and that's only if it's taken orally." They continued to stare at her, and from the corner of her eye, Zane saw the male smiling.

That smile of his could have been quite attractive if he hadn't been smiling about something that made her very grouchy and unhappy. She hated the Zydrate in her body, and while it may have made _him_ happy, it only made her pissed off to remember. "Well how much of this are you gonna want?" she finally said. Then, she noticed Shilo's completely confused look. Taking pity on the girl, she sighed. "This bugger saved my life, and now I owe him big time," she explained. "I don't want to, but I do…"

Though naturally wary because of her lack of knowledge, Shilo found herself warming slightly to Zane. She by no means trusted her, but she didn't really dislike the slightly older woman either. She also felt she owed the GraveRobber, after he had helped her open her eyes, and after he had sheltered her. Her eyes lingered on the bed, remembered the restless night. She didn't think either of them had really slept, but she had felt better after staying with him. She'd been able to go back home and sleep in her own bed.

The GraveRobber, with his sharp ability to read people, could guess what she was thinking about. He stood, turning to face her as she straightened with a slight start. He leaned in, speaking so that only she could hear him. "I had fun too, Shi," he said in a teasing tone.

All Zane caught was the soft squeak that came from the girl, and the flush on her pale cheeks. She raised a solitary brow, curious but not saying a word. She rubbed her arm again, trying to rub away the feeling of metal in her skin, a feeling she'd been without for many years. "God, what a night…" she muttered. She shook her head, sitting back down on the bed and laying back, staring upwards. "GraveRobber or whatever your name is, I hereby commandeer the left side of your bed for needed sleep."

Without any more modesty than turning her back to both other individuals, Zane stripped off her shirt and pulled on her black nightgown. When her pants were removed along with her arm warmers, she turned around again. She stood, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand.

The GraveRobber was staring at her with his head tilted, a bemused expression on his face. Shilo had taken off her shoes and was sitting close by, a large book in her lap and half of a sandwich in one hand. He stepped forward, intending to look Zane over more closely, but instead she sidestepped, going around him and to the door. She unlocked it and slipped out. The bathroom was empty, and she locked the door behind her.

She brushed her teeth and washed her face thoroughly, focusing on the feel of the icy water on her skin. As she turned off the water, she licked her lips, tasting the tang of rust in the water. _"No different from home,"_ she thought. She had always been good at adapting, and this situation was no different. She had no real regrets about leaving the tiny home, as the only things she'd have missed were packed away in her bag.

Shaking her head, and pushing her hair out of her face, Zane left the bathroom, returning to the dingy little apartment. After she locked the door behind her, she decided to get a better look and what the room contained. There was the table, the bed, and the stool. Now Zane noticed a slightly sagging couch shoved into another corner, and what was the door to a closet across from the bed. There wasn't much at all, but then, she didn't care at this point.

"She's asleep," a voice muttered from over Zane's shoulder. "Don't wake her."

Without thinking, Zane whirled and swung her fist. But in a spin of movement, her fist and neck were caught, and she was spun around, pressed against the door with a sharp thud. GraveRobber smirked down at her, and rubbed his thumb lightly over her windpipe, the motion almost tender.

His gaze, however, was anything but tender. It positively _raked_ over Zane, taking in every inch of her like she was the last woman he would ever see. Her stomach tightened and she instinctively grabbed onto the front of his faded yellow shirt, hands balling into fists around the fabric. In doing so, she got a hint of a finely toned torso, one that she would have very much liked to explore in a different situation.

The hand around her neck rose, gripping her chin. "How good…are you at being quiet?" he said, voice low and husky.

The GraveRobber's words jolted Zane sharply, and her body reacted on instinct with the slight beginnings of arousal. Her body had always been more animalistic than most, reacting purely to the physical, her thoughts often having little to no effect on the reactions. She swallowed, wanting to shove him away and wanting to pull him even closer to her. She grit her teeth, unclenching her hands and pushing against him.

"D-don't touch me," she hissed, eyes narrowing.

But his hand was resting on her pulse now, feeling the rapid pounding of the blood in her veins, as well as the heat of her skin. "You haven't been touched in a while," he said, ignoring her pushing at him; she wasn't pushing all that hard anyways. He leaned close, breathing in deeply. "Can't smell even a trace of sex on you…" It had been far too long since he touched the soft body of a woman like this. "Consider this part of paying your debt," he said, beginning to nibble at her shoulder and neck. "I promise you'll enjoy yourself…"

"_He's right… and I fucking hate it!"_ Zane's thoughts raged harshly, while her body wanted to arch and keen for more. Without her even willing it, her head tilted to the side, further exposing the skin that the man was addressing. She clenched her teeth, and squeezed her eyes shut. All she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears and her racing thoughts. Then her eyes opened. She reached out and raked her strong, sharp nails down the GraveRobber's chest, one nail catching over a nipple.

He shivered and growled, grabbing the back of her head and mashing her lips to his. So she was going to play, was she? Well then, this was no time to try to be quiet. Continuing the kiss a moment longer, he broke away, leaving his room for the vacant bathroom. Zane was yanked inside and then thrown up against the wall, her throat grabbed and held hard.

Giving a half gasp, half cough, Zane grabbed the front of his shirt yanking it open and ripping too buttons. She wasn't going to let him touch her without giving quite a bit back. That wasn't how she worked. She gave what she got, and that was that. Chuckling darkly, he lunged, kissing her again as his hand went lower, grabbing her backside and digging his fingertips into the soft flesh of her left cheek. He pulled her up against him, feeling her make a sound of surprise into the kiss as he ground his growing hardness against her.

Zane broke the kiss, clenching her teeth as sensation attacked her. She heard the dark chuckle again. "What? Thought I couldn't get it up if the girl was still breathing?" GraveRobber laughed. He didn't wait for an answer, and dove in for more. His tongue slipped past her lips almost instantly, craving the taste of her. She tasted more alive and fiery than any woman. Zydrate addicts—half dead already—were sloppy, clumsy and with no coordination. There was never heat like this. _Friction_.

His pale chest exposed to the air, Zane took full advantage, digging her nails in and pulling them down his skin again, feeling his hips buck into hers, the kiss getting deeper. The growling groan that he gave only served to solidify her guess that he liked what she was doing. She bit at his bottom lip, her hands sliding under his arms and gripping at his back. She felt the tug of fabric, and then his hand was on her skin, warm and living; not at all what one would expect from his pale complexion.

The hand worked up her stomach and chest, cupping her left breast before his thumb and forefinger found a nipple. He broke the kiss in favor of her neck, loving the hiss that left her as he bit and twisted. Then his other hand yanked down her underwear, but just enough to let his hand delve between her thighs. She started and squirmed, nails digging into his sides. Long, agile fingers found her folds, finding bare skin. One finger slipped between, and was rewarded by hot wetness.

"Good girl…" he purred, pulling back to look at Zane's face. Then he pulled completely away from her, breaking all contact with a step back. He stared at her, at her flushed cheeks, rumpled nightgown and panties… "What a pretty sight…" he murmured, lifting his finger to his lips and licking the traces of her away. "Mmm, sweet."

And without another word, he turned and left, leaving Zane flushed, aroused, and completely alone. She stood there, staring ahead of herself and trying to sort out her slightly hazed brain. It wasn't working very well. But then she shivered, and her senses crashed back in. She yanked up her underwear, and fixed her nightgown. She strode after him, and snuck up behind him.

She then kicked him in the ass, making him stumble forward as she skirted around him. Blushing but somewhat pacified, she laid down on the bed where Shi seemed to have fallen asleep. Snuggling down, she took some of the blanket for herself, and closed her eyes. It might be difficult for her to fall asleep, but sleep she would. However, what kind of dreams she would have was a completely different matter.

The GraveRobber just stared at her, and snickered under his breath. He liked this girl.

AMBER SWEET'S OFFICE:

"Daddy was going to give everything to her!" the slender, beautiful woman snapped, leaning back in the ornate, comfortable, office chair. She was dressed in a form-fitting suit, with a very low cut shirt and knee-high leather stiletto boots. "We can't just let her go on with her life like nothing happened!"

Her older brother, Pavi Largo, glanced up from his hand mirror. "And just what do you plan-a to do, sister?" he said in a high voice that did not fit his gender and build at all.

Amber looked over at her other brother, Luigi, and then back to Pavi. She smiled, a sly, beautiful, icy, cruel smile. "I'm going to make her regret ever going to meet Daddy at her mother's tomb. She'll regret ever meeting Rotti Largo."

A slow grin spread across Luigi's face, and silver flashed as he began to spin a knife in his hands.


	3. In Which Zane is Cut

CHAPTER THREE:

Their clothes lay strewn about the room, Shilo long gone from the apartment. The GraveRobber was above Zane, his pale skin littered with bite and scratch marks from the flushed and panting woman below him. Her own form was marked in many places, neck and chest littered with hickies. Zane stared back up and into his eyes, her gaze mirroring his.

She wanted him. She wanted him badly. Each could tell that the other was painfully aroused, and that both wanted to continue. But the GraveRobber still loved to tease. Both of them were nude, each sweating slightly. He spread her legs, exposing her soaking core to him.

But he did not enter her. Instead, he pressed his hips to hers, trapping the length of his arousal between them, against her vulva, combining their heat. He rubbed himself over her, again and again, and loving the way she writhed against the contact, trying to move and deepen it. "You love this, don't you?" he purred lowly, his baritone voice only making his words all the more appealing to her.

She reached up a hand, grapping the back of his neck. She pulled him down, crashing his lips to hers, beginning a hard kiss. Grinning, he allowed her this, forgetting to keep an eye on the rest of her. She was a very smart young woman. With a quick movement and with the aid of only a few fingers, angled him so that when he rocked against her again, he abruptly slid inside her heat, the slickness making it easy.

In surprise and pleasure he groaned, pulling back and thrusting hard, feeling her both tremble and wince. Zane wrapped her legs around his waist, not letting him go as her arms held around his back. Her face was in his neck, and as he began a rocking of a different kind, she keened softly…

"Nn…GraveRobber…" He felt good.

"Zane…" She felt good.

Sliding heat, pushing, thrusting, moving.

Nails, teeth, sweat, even blood.

It felt—

With a start she sat up and opened her eyes to a blurry world. It wasn't her cramped room, or the back room of the diner where she sometimes napped. Everything came back and she shivered, as the dream's details remained clear and stark in her mind. A blush came to her cheeks, and she hunched over, running a hand over her face.

Zane's definition of a good night's sleep was at least two hours of deep sleep, and maybe two or three of restless sleep. Needless to say, her standards were not very high. So when she woke up grumpy and bitchy after such a dream, she was well within her rights to be as such. She looked to the side, the pale sun leaking through the dirty window and shining into her eyes. The first thing she saw was the GraveRobber fast asleep on the floor beside the bed, using her bag as a pillow.

He was lost to the world, getting all the rest he could ever want while she felt the nagging of lost sleep. But knew she'd never be able to get back to sleep now. Frowning deeply, Zane looked to her left, and saw that Shilo had left, leaving a small piece of folded paper in her place. Grunting and rubbing at her sleep-crusted eyes, the woman reached over and picked up the note, unfolding it. The script was a little shaky, but quite neat.

_Hey,_

_Had to go, hope to see you around. Don't get caught by anyone. And don't… overdose or anything… Yeah. See ya._

_-Shilo_

_P.S: It was nice to meet you, Zane._

A plain little note, but it was enough to give Zane a smile when she would rather have been cursing and pissy for a little longer. Setting the note on the GraveRobber's face, she yanked the pillow out from under his head, taking it with her to the bathroom. Amazingly, the impact of his head on the floor didn't wake the man. He simply rolled over, and slipped back into REM.

It was early, and Zane managed to slip into the bathroom before anyone else, cutting off an old man that was surprisingly quick for how bent over he was. She could hear him swearing at her in Russian outside in the hall, and she snickered slightly at the few words she caught. "Mornin' to you, too, old man!" she called, his cranky old bitching enough to cheer her up even more.

However, when she turned the water on and stripped down, she found that there was no hot water in the building. This sent her mood plummeting right back down. "Fucking water…" The showerhead gave a sound almost like a belch, and a burst of brown water came out. Zane stared, and thought a silent apology. This, of course, did nothing. Opting to be clean and cold instead of dirty and warm, she took her shampoo/body soap and razor, and jumped under the spray.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!" she cried at the blast of icy water, dropping her soap and accidentally grabbing her razor in a way that got her a nice slice across her middle finger. She heard the old man laughing outside, and swore at him a bit in a few broken words of his own language. Then, muttering curses under her breath, and bleeding, she began to wash. The day really was starting off well, wasn't it?

After a very cold shower, Zane stepped out of the tub after pulling the curtain back. She stopped dead as she found herself quite a bit less than alone. It wasn't the old man, standing hunched over the sink and brushing what teeth he had left. Nor was it any of the other people that lived in the building. It was the GraveRobber, standing shirtless and leaning against the door; that was starting to become a familiar stance.

For a moment, Zane stood perfectly still, naked and dripping with her hand reached out towards the pale green towel she'd brought with her. During this frozen moment, he was able to get a look at all of her, from her strong shoulders down to her toes. He smirked as he focused on her midsection before meeting her eyes. "Shaved, are we?" he said.

"The FUCK!!" Zane snapped, the towel drawn to her in a moment. "Do you even _know_ what privacy means?!" It was wrapped around her quickly, and she glared over at him, her shampoo and razor gathered up as well. She stalked to the sink, getting ready to brush her teeth as she muttered curses and obscene phrases under her breath.

He gave a shrug. "Privacy? Heard of it in passing," he said. "A most foreign concept if you ask me." He was grinning widely, and was quite happy with himself. However, the grin turned to a frown as a bar of soggy, dingy soap, hit him in the face. It slipped quickly off, leaving him spitting and spluttering at the unpleasant taste.

"Well screw you," Zane said, beginning to brush her teeth. "Why a hell 'ou up, a'way?" she muttered, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. "Struck meh as noc'urnal."

"Do you mean 'nocturnal'?" the GraveRobber said, spitting again, using his sleeve to wipe the last of his soap from his face. "And if you do, then the answer is yes." He tilted his head from side to side, the action producing two cracks, the sounds loud enough to make Zane jump slightly. She looked over her shoulder, toothbrush in her cheek and a smear of white in the corner of her mouth.

"Tha' can' be 'ealthy," she muttered, turning and spitting out the toothpaste. She scowled down, making a face. "Tch, damn. 'M brushin' too hard again."

He slipped up behind her, and noticed a few tiny red spots in the white froth. Zane jumped, and thrust her elbow back, only to have it blocked. The GraveRobber's palm closed over her elbow, pushing it slowly forward as he leaned his head over Zane's shoulder. "Should just get a different brush."

Yanking herself free, Zane rinsed her mouth and brush, and turned to face him, looking up at his six-foot frame from her five-seven one. "Look, I owe ya, I get that," she said, not in the least intimidated by him. "But I ain't a whore, or some Z-druggy that you can use to get off. You won't tease me or touch me, let alone fuck me." She planted a confidant hand on his bare chest, and pushed, using enough force to make him take two steps back.

He kept his gaze level with hers, and slowly raised a brow. "Do you really think that you have much say in the matter? Life debts are _quite_ serious." His hand reached out, and Zane's eyes followed it. His fingers entwined with her hair, slipping through the wet strands. "Until _I_ deem the debt repaid, you can't tell me what to do." Her neck was looking very tasty, but he let his hand drop. "Just remember that, Z."

ELSEWHERE:

Pavi Largo was reclining back on a particularly lavish love seat, for once not staring at his own visage in a hand mirror. At the moment, he was staring at an image of Shilo Wallace. "She is quite-a lovely," he remarked aloud, his sister and brother both relaxing in other parts of the room. "She has a _faccia come un angelo,"_

"Face like an angel?" Amber spat, turning to face the second oldest of the Largo siblings. Her eyes were angry, and she stalked over to him. "That _child_ almost took everything from us. Everyone will know what happens to people like her!"

"But-a the girl," Pavi continued, "can I have-a her face?" He gestured to his own, covered by the mask of skin that had once been his sister's own face. "She would make-a a most lovely addition to-a my collection!" He was like a child describing the merits of a new toy. "And people would-a see that no one crosses-a GeneCo without consequences."

Amber had not been thinking of something like this, and had originally been planning to to have all of Shilo's body desecrated and left to rot on some street corner. But her brother, however strange and twisted, did have a point. She smiled, and nodded. "Yes, Pavi, you can have her face," she said. "But we have to bring her here." She pulled an ornately sealed envelope from somewhere on her tightly clothed person, and handed it to Pavi. "A letter asking her forgiveness for what our 'horrid man of a father' put her through."

THE APARTMENT:

Zane was dressed again, in the same outfit as before—sans the arm warmers—with her hair clumsily braided down her back. She was sprawled out on the couch, her right leg twitching in her dislike of being in one place for too long. She couldn't stand it. She was chewing on her bottom lip, a bit harder than she should have been, and would probably taste blood if she kept going.

The GraveRobber didn't work in the daytime, even if there was never really any sun in this world. And what was the fun working when he was allowed to be out anyways? He liked working past the curfew; it was quite a bit more fun. He liked the adrenaline rush.

But he was finding that he also liked looking at and watching his new roommate. She was quite the character, trying to ignore him but unable to stop herself from glancing over at him every now and then.

And he was very interesting. His tangled looking hair had twists of multicolored threads woven into it like dreadlocks, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through it, see how tangled it really was. She wanted to look again, but kept her eyes straight ahead of her. She hated this; she hated being stuck in the apartment, lying on an uncomfortable and sagging couch. She was quite sure that if she moved in the wrong way, a spring would pop out and stab her in the back.

"What the hell do you do when you aren't digging up the dead?" she finally snapped, hating the quiet and breaking it. "This can't be all you do with your life."

The GraveRobber looked up from whatever it was that he was doing, glancing over his shoulder. "Hm? Oh, yes. Sometimes I have a woman…" he said with a lewd grin. "Well, I do have one… Interested?"

Zane sat up, face red as she glared at him. "No! I certainly am not," she snapped quickly. She crossed her arms and leaned back, trying to get comfortable again. "Not like I'm gonna give this body of mine t' _you_ of all people."

An idea sparking in his mind, he unfolded his legs and stood. Turning, he walked towards the couch. "Give? You wouldn't happen to be a _virgin_ would you?" He leaned in and down, grinning widely at Zane as if she were his prey.

Her eyes snapped wide open and she proceeded to splutter and blush. "Wha—you—what the hell are you talking about?!"

He lifted a leg and rested his knee between both of Zane's own legs, just shy of her core. "A virgin. Untouched, haven't had your cherry popped," he said, still grinning as he rattled off terms. "Have you had sex before?"

She lifted her foot and pressed it to the GraveRobber's thigh, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I don' see how that's any of yer business," she hissed at him. Her foot moved over to rest on his groin, pressing down lightly, feeling the GraveRobber tense slightly. "My sex life is _none_ of your affair."

He gripped her ankle, staring into her eyes. "So you _are_ then," he said triumphantly, smiling widely. Grabbing hold of her ankles, he yanked her legs open and pulled her down, her back on the seat of the couch, head awkwardly tilted up at him. "Well then, I'll have to be extra careful with you, wont I?" he purred. He lowered onto his knees, pelvis level with Zane's because of the low couch. Her legs around his hips, he leaned down, kissing her once more. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she instantly bit down.

However, he reacted quickly, slipping his tongue to the side of her mouth, out of reach of her teeth. He bit her bottom lip, nibbling and cajoling as he pinned her wrists down. She jerked her head to the side, breaking the kiss as she fought him. "Leggo, prick!" she growled, face still blushing but eyes angry. "I told you! I'll give you all the Zydrate you want, but you won't be touchin' my body any more than that!"

Her right hand clenched into a fist, and she grit her teeth, glaring harshly at the pale-faced man. Then, with a surge of strength she yanked the hand free and punched the GraveRobber square in the face. She followed him as he jerked back with a broken nose. She grabbed his collar and yanked him to her, her tongue lapping up a bit of the blood. Then she shoved him away, licking her lips clean and glaring at him.

A slight malicious smirk spread across her dark lips. "I'll give ya points for balls," she said lowly, her nature completely changed. She was no longer a snarky girl, but rather a pissed off and rather dangerous young woman. "But no matter how much I owe you, no matter what you do for me…I'll never _belong_ to you." She shook out her right hand, opening and closing her fingers. She had no intention of ever _surrendering_ herself to anyone. Her first time would be _given_.

The GraveRobber cracked his neck from side to side a few times, and blinked before once more grinning, licking the blood from his upper lip. He cracked his nose back into place with the practice of someone who had done it before. The next look he gave her was a grin dark enough to make Zane shiver, her abdominal muscles tensing up.

"Very well, Z," he said softly, rolling his shoulders. "I'll leave you alone for the moment, as you seem hell bent on resisting me." He bowed to her, the gesture more that of some Victorian Era gentleman rather than a modern GraveRobber and Zydrate peddler. He straightened, still smiling. "I'll never force a lady. Never have and never will."

"GraveRobber, all you've ever had is whores," Zane muttered. "And while I ain't that, I'm no lady either." She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes avoiding the man.

He stared at her for some time, watching her discomfort grow. She really was quite fun to play with. But since he was up, he might as well go out instead of remaining here. The days were never very bright, and even when there was sun, it was soon taken over by clouds. He and Zane were alike in the respect that they disliked being cooped up.

"We're going out," he announced, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on. He buttoned up and put on his scarf and other items, soon putting on the odd coat with the modified collar. As usual, he carried his supplies for drawing out Zydrate from the bodies of the dead, and little vials of what of the dug he had hung from his belt.

Zane stood and watched as he put on his boots, and then she grabbed up her coat. She had _some_ money, but she wished that she could have withdrawn some cash from her account. But it was quite likely that if GeneCo had wanted her dead, they would also have frozen her accounts. "They're gonna be lookin' for me, ain't they?" she muttered, grabbing her back and throwing the strap over her shoulder to wear across her torso.

Turning off the lamp and heading to the door, the man nodded and answered without looking at Zane. "It's quite likely," he said. "But Amber may change her mind of course, and want to keep you alive."

"That bitch?" Zane said in distaste as she was shooed out the door before him. "Uh, no thanks. Don' much feel like helping her at all."

The GraveRobber shrugged, taking up a long stride in front of Zane. "She pays well," he said. "And it would be a bit of a loss for me to loose my biggest customer."

"Wow, thanks," the girl said with an overly dramatic tone. "You're so selfless."

He threw her a wink over his shoulder. "I try."

AN UNDISCLOSED BAR IN THE SLUMS:

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy," a lanky, red-haired man said, his voice hushed as he leaned in to speak to the others at the table. "It's gonna be hard as fucking _hell_ to do this, mates, but if we get enough support…I think it's possible."

"Yer _mad_, Trey," another man said. He was quite burly and thick, wearing a pinstripe vest over a black shirt. "What yer per'posin'… Have you cracked?"

"Let him speak, Ryan," the only woman at the table said. Her name was Mab, and with her unearthly blue eyes and pale complexion, she did indeed resemble the fairy queen from ancient stories. "You know you feel just the same as he does.

"Don't mean I'm gonna go do somethin' as stupid as what he's suggestin'," Ryan muttered. "It's bloody _mad_, and you know it."

"It's _not_ mad, dammit!" Trey hissed, smacking is hand down on the top of the table. He lowered his voice even more as he and his friends got a few glances from the other patrons. "It's _needed_. Things have been going on like this for far too long, and if no one else is going to do anything about it, then I will. I'm not going to sit idly by and let the Largo's continue to ruin this world…"

Mab frowned deeply, pursing lips that had a shine of purple to them. "We know you're right, Trey," she said in a gentle voice. "But even if the others agree, there aren't near enough of us to do what you're proposing. There simply aren't enough of us…" She bit one of her full lips, tapping her fingers on the table. "If you're trying to seriously do this, we need more people. A lot more."

Trey clenched his teeth, green eyes narrowed as he folded his hands together under his chin. "I know… I have supporters in another city, outside the island, but it'll be hard to get them here. We need to find people _here_. People on the island that feel the same way we do." His expression went dark and hateful. "That feel that something needs to be done about GeneCo, and that are brave enough to actually try to do that something."

ELSEWHERE:

"You want to buy a gun?" the GraveRobber said, half pausing as he walked, Zane beside him.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "The one I hit ya with was crap, and I need another one." She looked over at him. "I'm gonna get a cut of what you sell from me." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. "I have enough to get something right now, but that'll take all I was able to grab before we left. You know any good places?"

"Depends on what you want," the man said.

"Older stuff," Zane said. "Hopefully from Russia."

"Know a model?" He didn't know much about guns but if she was going to buy a weapon, she might as well know what she wanted.

Nodding, a light smile curled Zane's lips. "Only ever shot one once before, but I really liked it. An MP-412 Rex revolver." She'd very much liked the heft and feel of the weapon when she'd shot one two years ago, and she had a pretty good idea of what they cost. "So _do_ you know a place or not?" She looked over at him.

"Yes, I do," he muttered. "Out of the way though."

"Well we'll have to put it in our way then, won't we?" Zane said with a smile.

He couldn't help but let one side of his mouth quirk up in a half smile. She certainly wasn't a stranger to the world; that was for sure. That meant she had a better chance at surviving said world. There was no room for innocence in this day and age, and that was one of the reasons that Shilo so intrigued him. She was innocent even though she knew the world. How that was possible, he would likely never know, but at least he had something interesting to watch and play with a little.

Actually, two something's. He looked over at Zane again, taking her in. She had long legs in comparison to the rest of her body, and her gait was as confident as any of the Largo children. She had faith in herself and what she could do. She felt sanguine about her abilities, and if a fight came along, he had little doubts that she'd be able to handle herself. He wondered just how good a shot she was, and continued wondering as he swept around a corner, feeling her pick up her pace a bit to follow him.

She took her turn to watch him now, looking him up and down from behind. He was quite adept at walking in the boots he wore, which gave a good three-inch boost from the thick soles. She personally thought that the buckles were excessive, but the boots suited him. He was also able to walk quite quietly in them; she didn't know if this was a good or bad thing for her. He certainly could sneak up on someone when he wanted to.

However, reality snapped back to her as she felt the sharp coolness of a blade pressing into her back through her time-worn coat. She stopped dead as another knife circled around her throat. "Hey there, missy," a gravely voice said softly in her ear.

"Hullo, mugger," Zane muttered, only just loud enough for the man walking in front of her to hear. He stopped but didn't fully turn, instead peeking over his shoulder at Zane. She was wearing an expression of annoyance and anger, her body tight and tense. "Listen, I really don't have time to indulge you right now," she said, her only movement that of her breathing. "So why don't you go and try to steal from someone else."

The male behind her wasn't drunk or on any kind of drug; she would have smelled it on him if he had been. He took the knife away from her back, and pulled her to his chest. One arm was around her waist now, and he dug the fine edge of the first knife into her skin, making it leak red. Thankfully, he didn't hit a Z-vein.

"And I ain't got time for any lip, cunt," he said. His eyes rose to the GraveRobber. "An' you. You go on about your business."

Now the man turned, his dark eyes looking even darker because of the black smudged around them. "But you see, that girl there _is_ my business."

A brow was raised. "Oh? You her pimp?" The mugger sneered. "She don't look like no whore."

"That's 'cause I _ain't_ one!" Zane snapped. "I—ah!" She broke off into a gasp as more blood was spilled; there was still no Zydrate.

"What you two are don't matter," the mugger said. "I want whatever cash an' valuables you got."

"Where d'ya think you are?" Zane whispered softly, trying to move her neck muscles as little as possible as she spoke; she liked her throat intact. "You think anyone walkin' 'round the slums here has got anything of val—fuck!" She gasped again, feeling the cut deepen. She felt the tickle of something warm that wasn't blood, and grit her teeth. She felt the man notice, hearing him make a muddled sound of confusion.

"Wha' the hell…?" he breathed. "What kinda surgery is this from?"

"One I never wanted," Zane growled. "Never wanted to be cut, never wanted to be what my parents made me to be."

Taking a huge risk, she leaned her head forward, and slammed it back, feeling and hearing the crunch of bone. Her arm flew up between the blade and her neck, only for a curse to leave her lips as the knife cut deep into the flesh of her arm. The other knife only barely nicked the skin of her stomach before she had jammed her foot down on the man's instep. One hand reached back and clawed at his eyes, making him let go enough for her to push away.

She turned and grabbed one of the knives. With a quick slice she cut the man's palm, and the second blade fell to the ground with a clatter. She moved with unexpected speed, ignoring the blood and Zydrate leaking from her neck and arm as she shoved the mugger up against a wall, the knife now at his throat.

"I told ya I didn't have time for this," she growled, totally feral in her body language and in her tone of voice. "Now take yer worthless self and get the fuck out of here before I decide that you'd be better without balls." She moved away from him, still holding the knife in her hand, and looking quite like a killer.

The GraveRobber had no doubt that she was quite capable of taking another life if she had to.

But she let the man flee, and watched him do so with disgust. She threw the knife down, and lifted the hand of her uninjured arm to touch her neck. The cut wasn't bad, but it would need stitches. "Dammit," she hissed, now looking down at her arm.

GraveRobber came up to her, grabbing her arm and yanking back the bloody fabric of her coat sleeve. He scowled at the cut that still oozed Zydrate and crimson blood. But Zane just took her arm back. She reached down for the hem of her coat, ripping out some of the lining and wrapping it tightly around her forearm. She tended to her neck in the same way, and winced only slightly.

"I'll be fine," she said, starting to walk again, leaving him behind. "Won't take long to heal. 'Ve been like that since I got the Z-heart." He watched her go for a moment, and then started moving again himself, licking a bit of blood from his fingers, the smear of Z in it giving him a small buzz; but it wasn't enough to hamper his perception or mind.

She was an interesting girl, to be sure. And even if she had broken his nose—which still twinged quite a bit—he still found himself liking her. She truly was one of a kind, and he had lots of time to get to know her.


	4. In Which Zane Remembers

CHAPTER FOUR:

Shilo was eating, the mail on the table in front of her as she munched at her toast. It was a bit burnt on one side, but otherwise tasted fine. She had left the apartment and come straight home, wanting to feel a bit of the familiarity that it gave her. It didn't matter that that familiarity was tainted by lies most of the time.

Swallowing, she reached out for the mail. It was a bit more than just strange to receive physical mail rather than just a digital message. But this envelope—ornate and of fine paper, sealed with a red blob of wax—was anything but normal. As she took in these details, Shilo set down the singed toast, taking the envelope in both hands. Only now did she look at whom it was actually from, and when she did, her jaw went slack.

The letter was from _Amber Sweet_. Not GeneCo, but personally from the head of the company herself. Everything written on the envelope was in a fluid script, and the seal pressed into the red wax was an ornate heart with Amber's initials artfully woven with the shape. Shilo was quite confused, to put it lightly. It had been quite some time since the night of the Opera that had set the girl free, yet at the same time taken so much from her.

She hesitated to open it, remembering now that it had been Rotti himself that had killed her mother. _He_ had been the one that had brought her life to where it was now. But her natural curiosity soon had her fingers slipping under the wax and opening the envelope.

_Shilo Wallace,_

_Let me extend my greetings too you, as well as my condolences. I apologize for not writing to you sooner, but as I'm sure you can imagine, I have been quite busy. For your losses, and what my father put you through, I offer my heartfelt apologies. There was never any need for the way he set things up. In the past months, I have come to realize that there was quite a bit more to what happened that night that I had first thought._

_I had thought to issue a public apology to you, but I believe that something much more personal is in order. I understand if you decline, and if you bare hard feelings towards my family. But I still wish to invite you to my home for a private dinner. You need not worry about my brothers, for they will certainly be elsewhere. This will be a dinner for just the two of us, and I wish to personally apologize and do something to remedy what has happened._

_I am afraid that I must be brief, but please, consider this offer. I am assured of the delivery date of this letter, so these directions will be accurate. My father's driver will come to pick you up tomorrow evening at your home, at precisely six o'clock. He will wait for fifteen minutes out at the front door, and if you decide to accept my offer, he will drive you to our dinner. If you do not wish to attend, and do not come out, he will simply leave. Please, do consider coming._

_Yours truly,_

_Amber Sweet_

Shilo stared for some time at the letter. She reread it several times, short though it was. Surely this had to be a fake. Someone had to be playing a joke on her. But also… She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. She knew that the Largo family was trouble; knew that without a doubt. But what if it was true? What if there really was an apology waiting for her tomorrow night?

UNDISCLOSED GUN STORE:

Zane did indeed know exactly what she wanted when it came to a weapon. A soon as she saw the model of gun she had mentioned before—a MP-412 Rex revolver—she instantly went to work on inspecting it. The weight was good, and she seemed to know as much about the old Russian weapon as the man who was selling it.

The store was a grim place, much like the alley it opened out to. It was small and slightly cramped, with guns—handguns, rifles, and many others—locked in glass cases that could do with a good cleaning. Behind the front desk, bullets of all kinds were stacked in their respective boxes. They could have been a bit more organized, but Zane soon picked out the box that she wanted.

"That one," she said, pointing. The owner of the store—a grizzled old man—eyed her for a moment, then brought the box of bullets over. His dark eyes considered the young woman, taking in everything. How she looked, how she moved, even how she smelled. She didn't smell of the world he knew outside, but of something else familiar. He almost dismissed her as a Zydrate junkie, but as he noticed the clarity of her actions and her eyes, he amended this thought, even with the way she smelled.

There were also her injuries to consider. They were bound hastily, but rather neatly. She at least knew what she was doing. "You sure this is what ya want?" he said, speaking for the first time. His voice was gravely, but with sharpness to it. He considered Zane as she considered him, the heft of the pistol still in her hand.

"Yes," she said without hesitating. "I want this one." She set both bullets and gun down on the counter, pushing them towards him. She produced her wallet, and pulled out all the money she had. The bills were a bit rumpled, but the money was good. "Hang on…" she said, holding up a hand. Turning, she unhooked a holster from a curve of thin metal nailed to the wall. She returned and dropped it down onto the counter. "There. This is what I want." She sighed as she watched him collect, count and then take her money, down to the last penny. "Gonna need to work soon," she muttered. She loaded the gun, closed it, and shoved it into the holster now belted around her waist.

Giving a nod of thanks, Zane left the store…and stepped out into an icy drizzle. "Well fuck," she muttered up at the sky, squinting her eyes. Abruptly, a knit cap was jammed down over her head. "OI!" She yanked away, ripping the hat from her head. "What the hell?" she snapped at the GraveRobber; he looked even paler in the darkness, so much so that he almost glowed.

And speaking of glowing…

"Zane, you're all lit up," he said softly, waving a finger at her eyes. "Or would you like to be noticed a hauled off to GeneCo?" He took the hat and put it back on. "As much as I like seeing that skin of yours, close up the coat and button up the collar."

Zane was someone who hated taking orders from anyone. The GraveRobber was no exception. She put her hands on her hips and stared up at him. "Look, I know I owe you an' all…but—" She broke off, eyes flicking to the far end of the alley. "Shit." Grabbing hold of his coat-sleeve, she dragged him swiftly across the ground. He managed to keep his feet from catching and dragging on the uneven surface, his senses spreading out as he tried to notice what had put Zane on such high alert.

She said nothing as they stopped, letting go of him. With one fluid motion, she grabbed the edge of the metal container, and without any hesitation, heaved herself in. Deciding that he would rather be safe than sorry, he also heaved himself up, and dove in with her. Zane yanked herself out of the way before he landed on her, looking up to see him silently closing the top of the dumpster.

The two of them were plunged into total darkness, and the damp smell of the empty dumpster folded in over her nose. The GraveRobber looked down at Zane, her back propped up against a slightly rusty metal wall. He was hunched over, and sat down, his eyes affixed on the woman. She was, stuffed into the total darkness of the enclosed space, quite beautiful. Outside in the normal dark of night, the glow had been rather noticeable, but inside the dumpster, the white-blue light that surrounded her made her seem…otherworldly.

Crouching down, the GraveRobber rested his forearms on his knees, his face mostly in shadow. Zane tilted her head, taking in the rather eerie visage before her. His chin, nose, cheeks, and brow were all lit up, while the rest of his face was completely dark. She could only see a slight glint of reflection in his eyes, and some part of her shivered. She knew that there was a part of her that was still a child, a part of her that had clung to innocence, digging in dirty, overgrown fingernails to what scraps were left. And that twisted little child was afraid of the GraveRobber.

Knowing this, Zane swiftly looked away, instead pressing her ear to the side of the bin. "Shh," she breathed softly, waving a hand at him. What her ears had picked up before was in the alley now, and there was no time to wonder if she and the GraveRobber had been noticed. She had heard two people coming closer, both speaking in hushed tones but not trying to walk quietly. Zane's keen ears could pick up their words even through the metal. In the back of her mind, she was only hoping that someone wasn't going to open the lid and throw in a bursting bag of rubbish.

"Trey!" a gruff, masculine voice hissed urgently. "Have ya given this _any_ thought?!"

The second voice was also male, but younger, and much more calm. "Yes, Ryan," he said. "I have. I know what this will take, and I know that—"

"No, you don't know!" the so-called 'Ryan' interrupted. "You have no bloody idea what this will take! People will die for this, and you aren't even blinking an eye! You seem to think that this will be easy! Do you even care what the cost will be?!"

There was a grunt and a thud, and Zane guessed that one of them had shoved the other against a wall. She continued to listen. Behind her, the GraveRobber could now hear the men as well. Natural curiosity urged him forward, and he pressed his own pale ear to the wall of the bin.

Trey's voice was now very different. The tone was harsh and low, and Zane almost couldn't hear him.

"Don't you _ever_ say that," the younger man growled, indicating that it was Ryan who had been shoved. "I care a good deal more than any other soul on this island. I'm the only one willing to do anything about GeneCo."

Zane's brows instantly knitted and her brow furrowed deeply. _"Doing something about GeneCo?"_ The idea was not a new one, but unless someone had a veritable army behind him or her, there was nothing that could be done about the tyrannical company that even had power over congress. There was no one above them to punish them for doing wrong, no onecould do _anything_ against the Largos.

"I am going to take that company down," he hissed. "There will be a new system and there will no need for RepoMen ever again. This world is long overdue for change. I can't stand it. I _won't_."

There was no response from Ryan, and Trey let out a scoff. The sound of his footsteps soon began to fade, and eventually, the other man left as well. Zane said nothing until they had left even her range of hearing, and then she turned and let her back once more press to the wall of the dumpster.

She pulled unconsciously at the cuff of her coat, and she stared ahead, eyes narrowed and slightly glazed. "Fuckin' stupid," she finally said, scoffing. "That guy is fuckin' _stupid_. There's nothing he c'n do about GeneCo." She raked her fingers through her hair, thoughts racing. He had been more than right however, and as she turned his words over in her head, she felt her chest tighten. Her hand instinctively clutched at the breast of her shirt, fingers twisting at the fabric as her grimace deepened.

The GraveRobber peered at Zane, taking in her body language. But his thoughts were drawn once more by the ethereal glow of her. He wanted to reach out and touch that glowing skin. He already knew how soft that skin was, and how she tasted. He smirked lightly, the expression hidden. Opportunist though he was, the idea of going at it in a dumpster didn't much appeal to him. He'd done it before and hadn't really liked it. Shrugging off the memory, he began to stand.

A hand snapped out and yanked him back down. He hit the floor with a grunt and a muffled, metallic thud. "Wait a while," Zane muttered. "Just 'cause you can't hear something don' mean it's gone." He looked over at her, and found her z-vein laced eyelids had closed over her eyes. Her long legs extended out in front of her. "But if ya really wanna go selling that stuff," she gestured disdainfully in the direction of his belt, her eyes still closed, "go ahead. But for now, I ain't moving."

She was suddenly filled with the fatigue of frustration and the bulge of suppressed memories that were threatening to burst forth. She tried not to clench her jaw, or show any kind of tenseness. She didn't want to remember anything more so soon after one rush. She wanted to sleep in her own bed, and eat her own food. The weight of a loaded gun on her person didn't make her feel any better, either. Still feeling the GraveRobber's gaze, she bent her knees, and hugged her legs up against her chest, her chin on her knees.

"Damn," she muttered, feeling the swell of suppressed memory getting stronger. " 'M gonna be 'ere a bit."

_NINE YEARS AGO:_

_The world was as dark as ever, and Zane was thirteen. Her parents, Christy and Marcko Morgan, had already lost their jobs. The last name of each member of the aberrant family had been changed, and they had slipped off of GeneCo's Radar. At least their old identities had._

_But the thirteen-year-old girl, Zane Morgan, had had an operation six months ago. One of her kidneys had started to fail, and so that their source of Zydrate and income didn't die, her parents had been forced to go through the complications of surgery, as well as doing everything possible to keep her extra circulatory system from being discovered._

_Nothing had been found out of the ordinary other than the shriveled kidney, and everything had gone well. However, there had been a recent crackdown on unlicensed Zydrate peddlers. Not as many people had been buying what Christy and Marcko drew from Zane, and money was pulled and stretched to the limit._

_It had been ninety days since they had sent in the last payment for Zane's new kidney. _

_It was due to be repossessed by a RepoMan. _

_Zane knew nothing of this, and her parents told her nothing, just treating her as they had since she had become their source for what they were so desperately addicted to. It was on one of the nights that the young teenager had snuck out of the house to creep through the streets, to find some relief and escape from what she lived through during the day._

"_ReeeeepoMaaaan!" _

_The wailing chorus from the loudspeakers made her jolt, and without thinking she started to run, just like any other person would have done. She didn't think she was a target, but no one ever wanted to be around when a repossession was taking place._

_Her feet pounded on the slightly slippery ground, and panic tightened in her throat. There was no one else on the street; she was alone. It wasn't that she didn't mind being alone, but this sensation was more like being stranded. It was like everyone had contrived to isolate her. She ran harder._

"_ReeeeepoMaaaan!"_

"_No!" the girl whimpered. She could hear someone else now, someone behind her. Someone _following_. It couldn't be. She couldn't be the one that was being chased! She couldn't be! "No, no, no, no!"_

_An impersonal gloved hand grabbed the back of her neck, large fingers circling around and pressing into her windpipe to cut off a possible scream. But Zane was too shocked. She was spun around and slammed into a hard brick wall, striking the back of her head. Everything spun around her, and white-hot pain burst in her abdomen, and then nothing. She couldn't feel anything, and could only look down at the mix of red and glowing blue that was staining her clothes._

_She expected for something to be said about the Zydrate, that her death would expose her parents and what they had done. "H-heh," she said, grinning faintly. Her face was slowly losing color, and her eyes rolled up to the assassin's face. _

_But because she was numb to the pain, she hadn't noticed that the man had done his work. He was packing up, her kidney vanishing away. Either he hadn't noticed that she not only bled crimson, but glowing blue, or he didn't care. He left her there, still very alive but bleeding badly, her insides exposed to the night air._

_Zane would never remember how she came to be in her bed back home, alive and breathing of her own power. It made no sense, but all that remained of her contact with the dreaded legal assassin, was a scar on her abdomen where she had been sliced open._

_She had survived a RepoMan. She should have died; died in the street and been taken off to a mass grave to join the other people that had been screwed over by GeneCo. _

_But she was breathing. Her body was living, and she could sit up, even if she had to be careful of stitches._

_She was _alive_, and more determined than ever to _stay_ that way._

PRESENT DAY, DUMPSTER:

When Zane opened her eyes again, she was shaking, and her body was beaded with a light sweat. She shivered with cold, and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her legs closer. "Shit…" One hand went down to her old scar, finding it under her shirt and fingering over the slightly hardened tissue. "This world is fucked up."

"My, my, you really are slow, Z," the GraveRobber said, making her start as she realized he was sitting right next to her, his body heat leaking into her. "Are you only just noticing this?"

She shoved at him, growling weakly and glaring pointedly away from him. She disliked human contact after remembering something. She wasn't all that social even normally, and having memories force themselves back into her consciousness didn't help all that much. That and she didn't much like the man. She looked over at him after a few moments. "Just 'membered where I got my scar," she said.

He raised a solitary brow and looked at the drawn face. "Oh you did?" he mused.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "But it ain't any of your business. It don' matter any more."

The man's lips pressed together and quirked to the side in an odd expression of annoyance. It wasn't very nice to bring up something like that—some story that might be interesting—and then just snap that it wasn't any of his affair. It didn't matter to him if it was or not; he was curious, dammit. That, and she looked considerably paler than she had a moment ago, making the glowing Zydrate under her skin stand out even more.

Granted, most of her skin _was_ covered, but that didn't matter. Glowing skin of any amount was bound to catch attention. It was nearly impossible to see in a well-lit room, but in a dark, enclosed place like this… Well, it seemed that something had to be done if she was ever going to be let out of the apartment. It was almost always dark these days; the clouds blocked out the sun most of the time, and whenever it did shine through, it looked sickly and ailing. Whatever had happened to the sky, the environment on the surface was just perfect to get Zane noticed.

Of course, he could always lock her in the apartment, but he doubted that she would let him do that; she probably wouldn't stay locked up for very long anyways. She would also be pissy as hell when she got out and found him. Either way, he would have to figure out a way to conceal her glowing.

He reached out, poking her cheek, only to have his hand slapped away. "What the hell?" she mumbled irritably. "Le' me 'lone." She didn't want much to do with the man at the moment, or to with anyone. She chewed on her bottom lip over and over, staring ahead of her.

Scowling, the GraveRobber reached out again, and flicked Zane soundly between the eyes. "Hey, focus, Z," he said. "You're _glowing_. Do you really think you can just go around without attracting attention? Unless you cover your body completely—"

"I won't be wearin' a veil or a burka or anything like that, so don't bother," Zane interrupted. "I'd rather cake my face with makeup…" She trailed off, frowning as the man grinned. "Aww, hell." Passing her hand over her face, she pulled the hat lower. "I'll fig'ure somethin' out." She pressed her ear to the wall of the bin, and then straightened, pushing the lid up and breathing in the somewhat fresher air. She hated makeup, but she didn't want to go around glowing and catching attention. Especially the attention of anyone from GeneCo.

She jumped out, letting go of the lid. She half hoped that it would fall onto the man's head. But sadly, it didn't, as he deftly caught it and leaped out as well. He dusted off his hands, the worn leather of his gloves sending up little clouds. He looked over at Zane, and darted after the woman that was already walking away. She had a fairly good sense of direction, and wanted to go back to the apartment to eat. She hadn't eaten in a while, and now her stomach was growling.

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she hunched her shoulders, letting her hair fall before her face, giving her as much cover as it could manage. The weight of the gun at her hip was a bit more comforting now, feeling it bounce slightly with each step. She was slightly chilly, and she hunched her shoulders even further, popping out her collar.

Again, her hand lowered to the scar, slipping under her shirt to finger the imperfection. She hadn't been shown _how_ she survived, but survived she had. But that wasn't the biggest question plaguing her mind now. Why hadn't the RepoMan noticed the Zydrate? Why hadn't he noticed the glowing blue that flowed from her body as he cut into it? She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and began to worry it, chewing unthinkingly at the plump bit of flesh. She was barely aware of the world around her, watching just enough so that she could navigate.

She had to dodge out of sight only a few times before she got home. Or rather, before she got back to the place where she was living for the time being. Her hand went into her pocket, and drew out the keys that she had picked from the GraveRobber's pocket not long ago. He would likely be annoyed at her, but as she slipped back inside the dingy apartment and locked the door behind her again, Zane didn't care.

Her coat fell in a heap on the floor as she crossed over to the bed. She opened her bag, pulling out a package of some kind of trail mix or another. She spent some silent, thought-filled moments picking out the peanuts that she didn't like and leaving them in a pile on the floor to be cleaned later. Then she ate in the dark, staring down at her hands as she ate. She was confused and curious and angry, all at the same time. And now the vague scent of garbage clung to her. She didn't fancy a cold shower at the moment, so she just sat and age the trail mix, watching her softly lit hands as they conveyed food to her mouth.

TREY MALICK'S RESIDENCE:

The walls of the large room would not have been out of place in cell of someone with mental delusions. They were covered with newspaper and magazine clippings; the neatly cut articles and columns pasted, stapled, and tacked to the walls so thickly that the wallpaper had been almost totally obscured. Only in a few places could one tell that it had once been a dark green print of vines and grass on a creamy background.

The room was the largest in the house, and it was totally bare save for a rickety roll-top desk and a thick wooden chair. Trey had pulled the chair out to the center of the room, and now reclined back, staring at the walls. Each bit of text had something to do with GeneCo, from its start to the present day. Trey was a good bit older than he looked, thanks to something his parents had done for him when he was born. Had he been old enough to understand and make the decision on his own, he never would have had the changes done. His aging process was massively slowed down.

He looked in his early to mid twenties, when he was really well past fifty. He had lived in a world he'd come to hate, frustration building in him before it burst; he had to _do_ something. Anything. He wasn't going to sit by anymore. He wouldn't let it keep going. He _would_ see GeneCo's ruin. He'd _make_ it fall, and then he'd erect a new system. A better one. But even if he was harsh on Bryan, the man was right; GeneCo would not fall easily. It had its claws in everything. But he would yank out each and every claw, even if it killed him.

And it very well might.

Trey knew that he could die; he knew that a lot of people could die. But it was all means to an end to him. It was a cruel way of thinking, but compared to Amber Sweet and her brothers, he was as gentle as a lamb.

And even with all his noble intent and determination, Trey was blind to one very, very important thing. He was blind to his complete and total _obsession_ with the goal. Being set and determined was one thing, but his drive to achieve was far beyond that. It had gone over the edge a long, long time ago. He just had never noticed the fall.

Slowly, Trey leaned back, and stared up at the ceiling. It too was covered with articles. He rarely let anyone else into the room, as some part of him—some deeply unconscious part—knew just how far gone his sanity was. As always, Trey's eyes were drawn to the largest article. It was something that he had blown up in size, and pasted over everything else.

_**ORGAN REPOSESSIONS LEGALIZED!!**_

The headline stood out big and bold, staring down at Trey with unwavering intensity. That was the biggest problem; that organs could be taken away, ripped out of a human's living body. The RepoMen were what he hated most, what he would destroy first. Each and every person that had executed a repossession would be killed. They deserved no less.

"The world will be changed," Trey murmured softly. He had said this to himself every day for over a decade now, and he would continue to say it until it came true. And perhaps…the little girl from the opera would be able to help.

THE APARTMENT, SOME HOURS LATER:

Zane had taken the plunge and washed in the chilly water, and changed her clothes. Now in a pair of sweatpants, a long sleeved shirt, and a ratty jacket, she sat under the lamp, using the heat of it for some mild warmth. She was also wearing her warmest socks, feet stuffed into untied shoes. Fingerless gloves kept all but the very tips of her fingers warm, and she leafed through an old notebook that she'd managed to grab.

Most of it was a journal, but there were other bits of writing that Zane couldn't remember putting down. It could have been in the early hours or when she was about to fall asleep. Either way, the script was messy and different from her usual handwriting. Chewing on her lip again, she took out an ink pen, and turned to a fresh page. She wanted to put down that dream she had had. A mild blush hit her cheeks as she thought back on it, and then began to write. Eventually the blush faded away, and focused more on the plain, scientific detail of it.

When she was done, she went back over it, brows furrowed and the edges of her mouth slightly turned down. She'd had sex dreams before, but never about a specific person. She decided to add just a bit more.

_No fuckin' idea why I had the dream. Yeah he had a go at me and it didn't feel all that bad, but that dream was way to vivid and intense. I don' like it. _

Zane paused, thinking, then continued.

_Either way, I don't really want another one like that. Hopefully I can go home at some point._

She closed the notebook, and stuffed it and the pen away. She rubbed her hands together, and pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt. It was very late summer, and things were starting to cool down. When winter brought snow, the city would be smeared with gray, dirty slush, and would become even gloomier than it normally was. Zane had never liked winter. She got to her feet and walked over to the window, peering outside. There was light from the sky yes, but it was dreary and depressing.

Zane wanted to go back to her own home a lot more than she had thought. She liked the way the place smelled; the scent of her laundry soap was somewhat strong, but not unpleasant. She liked it heaps better than the way this place smelled. Dumpsters, cheap food, metal, and a tinge of corpse smell all combined in the apartment, and while she could stand it, she really didn't like it.

But she couldn't go home. It would more than likely be under surveillance, and she wasn't about to be caught by GeneCo. She had figured out on her own that she probably wouldn't be killed. She'd be more of an asset to the company rather than a liability. But she had no intention whatsoever to become any kind of aid to the company that she held partially responsible for her current physical state of being.

"Stupid fuckers…"

WALLACE FRONT GATE:

Shilo stood there, staring at the open door of the luxurious limo. Here she was, ready to accept Amber's invitation. She chewed her bottom lip, hands twisting around the strap of her bag. Then after what seemed like hours of rapid thinking, she stepped forward into the interior, the door closing behind her.


End file.
